


Pretty Girls and Pretty Boys

by LoserLife592



Series: Clicking heels, Fluttering skirts [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bigender Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste is a bad father, he tries though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoserLife592/pseuds/LoserLife592
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next day when Adrien wakes up, he feels like a she.<br/>He shoves the feeling as far down into him as he can. All the way down until it’s nestled tightly against the desire to feel a skirt swishing against his thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Girls and Pretty Boys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HueyDeweyLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HueyDeweyLouise/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Strut Down the Catwalk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076188) by [HueyDeweyLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HueyDeweyLouise/pseuds/HueyDeweyLouise). 



> Okay so I've had the idea for Bigender Adrien stewing in my brain for a while now. But then a magnificent motherfucker came along and kicked my ass into gear with their magnificent work of art story. Here's to you.

Adrien remembers it starting at a young age; when he was small and watching his mother prepare for the day. Watching her turn from beautiful to gorgeous with each touch of makeup. Watching her go from gorgeous to stunning as she put on the perfect outfit. Then watching her become something unearthly as she slipped on a pair of heels.

Heels, young Adrien was certain of, were things of magic. He’d seen rooms fall instantly silent at just the approaching sound of heels clicking against tiles. He’d seen how people changed when they wore them. They would stand straighter, taller, confidence and power radiating from every inch of them. They drew the attention of everyone in a room without even trying. People would part around them automatically.

His mother had always worn heels.

Adrien, young and awed, had been enraptured by the magic of heels. When he was four, during a brief moment when his mother had taken her eyes off of him, he slipped away. He’d hurried as quietly as he could to his parents’ room and then, to his mother’s closet. The heels had been far too large for his feet and he could barely lift his legs with them on. When he looked in the mirror, Adrien felt like something was amiss. His four-year-old mind raced to figure out what was wrong before remembering how his mother took the time to dress herself in more than just shoes.

Adrien had wobbled back to the closet. Even with the added height of the shoes, Adrien had fumbled desperately for a random dress, tugging at it until it fell. It pooled around Adrien’s young body and he kept having to raise his arms so it wouldn’t slip entirely off of him. He tripped and fumbled over to his mother’s vanity. The climb onto the chair had the dress slipping half-off and one shoe falling off.

His mother had a vast array of makeup ranging from pencil things Adrien nearly poked this eye out with, to powders that tasted like dirt, and liquids that dripped onto the dress. The only thing that Adrien managed to put on that looked half-decent was the lipstick.

When Adrien looked into the mirror he laughed. His face looked messy, the dress was smeared and stained, and shoes didn’t even match anything he had on. He looked ridiculous but young Adrien was pleased nonetheless. The ridiculousness only made him look that much better in his opinion. Adrien was laughing so hard and loud that he didn’t even notice the sound of heels clacking loudly against the floor. He noticed when the door was flung open though.

His mother stood in the doorway looking frantic and worried. It was the most dishevelled Adrien can remember seeing her. Even as a four-year-old, seeing his mom like that didn’t sit right with him. Adrien had hurried over, merriment forgotten. His mother stood frozen as he approached, staring at him and the mess he’d made with disbelief and bewilderment.

“Mama?” he’d asked, worry plastered across his face. She’d stared at him for a long moment before breaking down into loud, almost hysterical laughter. She’d pulled him close and hugged him tight until her laughter settled. Then she’d pulled back and stared at him. Adrien was still staring up at her with concern.

His mother shook her head, lightly running her fingers across his made up face. Some of it had rubbed off on her clothes when she’d hugged him. “What were you doing dear?”

Adrien flushed, suddenly feeling as stupid and silly as his age made him. He rubbed at his face, smearing the makeup further and worsening the state of the dress. The weight of the shoes suddenly felt terribly painful. “I wanted to be pretty like you.” He mumbled the words as quietly as he could but she still caught them.

His mother shook her head and lifted him up. She carefully wiped his face clean and removed the oversized clothes. “Oh Adri,” she had whispered, like the words she was uttering were a secret. “You’re always pretty. Whether or not someone is pretty isn’t determined by what they do or don’t wear. It’s all in here.” She’d laid a hand over his heart and smiled kindly at him. He’d smiled too, but only for a moment.

“But mama,” he’d protested, “I want to _look_ pretty. Like you. With the dresses and everything.”

His mother had blinked in surprise but her smile just grew. “If you want dresses, we’ll get you dresses.”  She had Adrien in her lap through the entire video call with his personal stylist. She had asked him questions about what he would like and what colour and if he’d like anything else. The next day had Adrien giggling giddily as he twirled in a dress that fit. He was so proud that he had insisted his father see.

Gabriel Agreste was working on suit design in his office but he stopped when Adrien and his mother entered. His father was a busy man but he always made time for his wife and, by extension, his son. His mother had always been the bridge between Adrien and his father.

His father had stared at Adrien with an unreadable look as Adrien proudly stood in front of him. There’d been a long minute where Gabriel had kept staring without saying anything. During this time, Adrien’s pride and confidence had slowly slipped out of his grasp. His gaze dropped and he shifted, uncomfortable and awkward and starting to feel _wrong_. Like what he’d done wasn’t right and he needed to fix his mistake. Adrien didn’t even know what his mistake really was, let alone how to fix it.

He didn’t notice his mother’s ferocious glare burning into Gabriel as the silence stretched on.

“I was considering you becoming a model for the company.” His father said eventually, after a quick glance at his mother that Adrien missed. Adrien had shyly looked up to his father. “Would you like to model these kind of clothes as well then?” Adrien nodded slowly. Gabriel nodded back. “Alright.” He said, glanced up his wife, then added, “You look very good in that dress. It really brings out your eyes.”

Adrien grinned then, pleased. His mother began to fuss about when he’d be ready to model and how lovely he’d look in all of the clothes his father had designed and Adrien felt happy.

* * *

 

 When he’s six years old, Adrien asks his mother to call him a girl.

They’re sitting in the kitchen for lunch and Adrien has been feeling a bit odd all day. Not a bad odd, but an kind of knot in her stomach when someone refers her a boy. Adrien knows she was a boy yesterday but, this morning as she got dressed in ballet flats and a blouse, she’d looked in the mirror and thought about how pretty a girl she was.

She explains this to her mother. She says that she’s still a boy but today she’s a girl and wants to be called a girl. Her mother just smiles and kisses her forehead. “Okay,” she whispers, eyes warm and kind.

Later, when Nathalie calls Adrien a he, her mother corrects her. Nathalie pauses and looks up, shocked. She nods slowly and corrects herself. Adrien catches her staring curiously the rest of the day but no one messes up the pronouns again.

A week later, after being a she the entire time, Adrien tells everyone he’s a he again.

“Bigender.” Nathalie says softly after a month or so. She slides him her tablet, open onto a website with an explanation and proper name for him. She slips away before he can thank her. 

* * *

 

When he’s eight years old, Adrien’s mother vanishes off the face of the Earth without a trace. She takes nothing with her but leaves everything behind.

People whisper words about how she abandoned her son. How she finally had enough from a husband who wasn’t warm enough. They gossip about affairs and secret lovers. Adrien knows none of it is true. The night before she disappeared, she’d tucked him in like she always did. She’d talked about how excited she was for his first photo shoot the next day. About how proud she was and about how he’d grown so much and how amazing he’d be.

She wouldn’t have left them. She wouldn’t have left _him_.

* * *

 Adrien is eight and a half when he finally does a photo shoot. His mother has been gone for months and his father, slowly trying to piece back shattered pieces of himself into something resembling how he once was, had decided it was high time they tried returning to normalcy. From the moment Adrien had seen his father’s detached and carefully blank expression; from the moment he heard that emotionless and flat tone, he knew that they would _never_ go back to normal.

Adrien arrives at the shoot on time and gets through half of it before shutting down. Adrien has been around models his whole life and has been watching them work for half of it. He _knows_ what he’s doing. But then he has to wear a dress for one of the set ups.

The dress is beautiful and it would look amazing on Adrien, especially paired with the high-heeled wedges beside it. But all Adrien can think about is his mother catching him playing dress up and how light her laughter was when Adrien had spun around in his first dress.

Adrien can’t breathe suddenly and his eyes burn but that hinders nothing. He screams, and throws a tantrum too big for someone so close to adolescence. No one can calm him down and he locks himself in the bathroom. When his father arrives, looking displeased and upset, Adrien sobs out how he can’t. He just can’t wear them without thinking of _her_. His father nods, stone-faced and silent. He has Nathalie take him home.

“You’ve had enough emotion for today.” Is all Gabriel says before moving away, off to clean up Adrien’s mess.

When Adrien gets home he pulls every dress and skirt out of his closet. He gets garbage bags and shoves them full. He throws in all his heels and ballet flats and every piece of makeup he was allowed to have. He leaves the bags outside his door to be dealt with by the staff. He sits on his bed in a room that suddenly feels half empty and can only stare at the floor until exhaustion sinks too deep into his bones. 

* * *

 

The next day when Adrien wakes up, he feels like a she.

_He_ shoves the feeling as far down into him as he can. All the way down until it’s nestled tightly against the desire to feel a skirt swishing against his thighs.

* * *

 When Adrien is nine years old, he meets Chloe Bourgeois. She’s loud and spoiled and overopinionated. She’s also the first person Adrien meets who’s the same age as him.

She worms her way into his life, talking his ear off and doing everything in her power to try and impress him at any and all turns. _Friend_ , he wants to call her. Because for all the times she’s invaded his personal space, made him feel uncomfortable and unknowingly upset him, Chloe has helped to try and fill a huge chunk of him that was ripped out when he was eight.

_Friend_ , he wants to call her. Except for one moment that he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget when Chloe looks at a picture of a man grinning happily in a crop top, skinny jeans and high-heeled boots. She scrunches up her faces and sneers. “Disgusting freaks.” She says, looking over at Adrien for support.

Adrien swallows down bile and a scream. He can’t decide who he hates more in that moment, himself or Chloe.

“Yeah.” 

* * *

 

When Adrien is fifteen, he meets Plagg. Plagg is lazy and gluttonous and annoying but because of him, Adrien can be Chat Noir.

Chat Noir doesn’t have to sit through Chinese and piano lessons. Chat Noir doesn’t have to pose for hours in front of photographers. Chat Noir doesn’t have to walk around on eggshells all the time. Chat Noir doesn’t have to think about a father who will never be the same again. Chat Noir doesn’t have to think about a mother who left a hole too deep to fill. Chat Noir doesn’t have to deal with little voices that whisper _girl_ on some days. Chat Noir doesn’t have to deal with longing every time he sees a pretty dress and cute shoes.

Because of Plagg, Adrien can be _free_.

 

When Adrien is fifteen, he meets Nino.

Nino who explains how schools work to him. Nino who steps in when Chloe starts making Adrien uncomfortable. Nino who plays his new mixes for Adrien. Nino who never judges him for his cluelessness on ‘normal’ teenage things. Nino who smiles at him with the patience of a saint. Nino who lays a hand on his shoulder when Adrien feels his father’s distance and mother’s absence more than usual. Nino who never pushes but always listens, even when Adrien doesn’t talk. Nino who doesn’t understand, not really, but tries to.

Nino who, far all Adrien cares about Chloe, has quickly become Adrien’s best friend.

 

When Adrien is fifteen, he meets Ladybug.

When they first meet, Adrien can see her hesitance and shyness in every thing that she does. But he can also see her fire and strength.

Ladybug burns like a fire in pitch darkness. Growing and building until she’s so bright and fierce and powerful that nothing could ever hope to contain her. She is in no way perfect, but she’s pretty damn close.

Adrien loves her with all of his heart and everything in him. He knows that she be anybody under the mask but that doesn’t matter. She could be _Chloe_ under that mask for all he knows or cares. (He knows it’s not Chloe though. All the times they’ve been seen together and the Lady Wifi incident all prove that she isn’t. Adrien will admit he’s glad). Adrien loves her and will continue to love her not matter what.

 

When Adrien is fifteen, so many wonderful things happen to him that Adrien hardly ever stops smiling. He feels like all those years of quiet suffering are finally giving way to… Adrien’s not exactly sure what they’re giving way to but he’s so happy he doesn’t care.

(It doesn’t hurt looking at his mother’s photos anymore. He comes home one day so elated that he makes one of her pictures the background on his computers. It’s a spur of the moment thing but he doesn’t change it.)

(He still wakes up with the first thought on his mind being _girl_ sometimes. He still shoves it down, even as it nags at him for months at a time occasionally. He still can’t look at dresses and skirts and heels for too long without wondering.)

* * *

 When Adrien is sixteen, everything comes to a head.

Little voices have been screaming _girl_ at him for a solid week and the Akumas have been difficult and relentless. Adrien is tired; emotionally and physically exhausted by the time the bell rings for lunch he’s not even half-way through his day. He lays his head down on the table and ignores the concerned looks Nino’s been shooting him all day. Adrien still has fencing and Chinese after school. Then he needs to work on his homework. All of this depends on whether or not there’s another Akuma attack that day. If there is then that entire plan in shot to shit until the Akuma is dealt with.

Adrien tries to stop thinking about all of that because his head is pounding really hard and the little voices aren’t very little right now as they scream inside his mind. The noise level in his head doesn’t change no matter how hard he tries to shove everything down. Adrien wants to be at home curled up in bed, wrapped in his mother’s arms with tea and hot cocoa and cartoons on TV. He wants to be twirling in a dress as his mother tells him how beautiful he is. _She_ wants everything to _just stop for a moment_.

Adrien doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Nino has his arms around him, trying to soothe him as a crowd slowly gathers.

 

Adrien stays in bed for the rest of the day after he’s driven home. Every inch of him burns with shame and embarrassment for breaking down like that. In _public_ of all places. His head is still pounding, his throat is raw, his mouth is dry, there are tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes burn. He doesn’t bother cleaning up or changing before crawling into bed.

Plagg is curled up close to him, letting out a noise that sounds like a purr as he watches Adrien carefully. He doesn’t say anything or ask. Adrien hasn’t told him, or anyone for that matter. He doesn’t think he needs to. Adrien thinks Plagg knows anyway; is pretty sure Plagg has gone through his baby pictures.

When his father comes in, Plagg hides under Adrien’s shirt and Gabriel sits down on the edge of his bed, back to his son. Neither of them say anything until Gabriel asks, “Are you alright?”

Adrien chokes and can only manage to say “Sorry” because he is. Gabriel nods and runs a hand comfortingly through Adrien’s hair.

“You’ve had enough emotion for today.” He says. He’s been saying it a lot since Adrien’s first photo shoot eight years ago. Adrien is pretty sure his father is saying it to both of them. “Rest. I’ve had Nathalie clear your schedule for tomorrow as well.”

Adrien nods, face buried in his pillow. He’s not going to cry; he doesn’t want to. His father stays for a few more moments, petting Adrien’s hair. Adrien holds onto that moment long after his father leaves, using it as a shelter in the storm of his mind.

 

The next day finds Adrien laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. His phone keeps vibrating but Adrien can’t bring himself to reach for it. He wants to go back to sleep but he knows it won’t happen. Years of waking up early has made it impossible to sleep in and one restful day can’t curb years of routine.

(The pounding in Adrien’s head has quieted but he can still feel the knot of unease in the pit of his stomach.)

Before Adrien even realizes it, he’s shucking off the covers and padding his way into the hallway. He walks without thinking, feet guiding him down a familiar path until he’s pushing open the door to his parents’—his father’s—bedroom.

No one has dared touched his mother’s things, not even his father. Adrien stands there for a long moment, just staring at the vanity his mother used to sit at, slowly putting herself together every morning. He looks into her closet and lightly runs a hand over some of her favorites outfits.

(He can’t do it. Every inch of Adrien screams _wrong._ )

(But those little voices in his head whisper about how pretty he felt with fabric billowing out around his legs. About how powerful he felt in heels.)

Adrien is more experienced now. He has eight years of modeling under his belt and four years before that of wearing dresses and heels. The dress is still too big and hangs too low on him. The heels are still a bit too big for his feet. He doesn’t have much experience applying makeup to himself. Nonetheless, Adrien knows what he’s doing, no matter how much his hands shake.

When he steps back and looks in the mirror, Adrien doesn’t laugh. He looks ridiculous, but pretty. He—no, _she_. She’s a she today. _She_ hasn’t felt pretty in years.

Adrien carefully turns this way and that, examining herself in her mother’s mirror. She meets Plagg’s eyes in the mirror and they stare at each other for a moment.

“If you find some clothes that actually fit,” Plagg says, reclining in the air, “you’ll look pretty good.”

Adrien nods and smiles and swallows down her sob of happiness. She stands there for what feels like hours, trying to re-familiarize herself with this strange person in the mirror. This strange person that she’d denied loving for so long.

Adrien realizes that she really might’ve been standing there for hours when Plagg darts under the dress and her father opens the door to stares at her in surprise.

Now, Gabriel Agreste is by no means a good father. He is distant and clinical and uncommunicative. Adrien knows this—has always known this. And for how much more strained their relationship has gotten since her mother disappeared ( _disappeared_ , she has to remind sometimes. Because her mother would never have _left_ them. Not without a goodbye at least), Gabriel still _cares_. He cares and tries and always does his best to make sure that Adrien is healthy and protected. And Adrien clings to that knowledge like it will stop being real if she lets go for even a second.

So Adrien isn’t really worried when _her_ father walks in on _her_ playing dress up. Gabriel only stares for a moment, expression twisted into something Adrien can’t really interpret. He approaches her slowly, like a spooked animal. She’s not sure which one that’s referring to. When he’s close enough, he meets her eyes. He hugs her tight and she leans into the embrace, soaking in all the love and affection her father can manage to offer.

“You look beautiful.”

She _feels_ beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if anything was wrong and all that. It was my first time delving into this kind of writing and...yeah.


End file.
